| Nothing can hurt us now
|
| What we have can’t be destroyed
|
| That’s our victory, our victory over the dark
|
| Been bombin' before, Andromeda’s core
|
| Islamic’s at war, blood red on the floor
|
| I’m in my own lane, ten game hitter
|
| Friends get bitter, someone that they won’t get rid of
|
| We had the dopest litter, bunch of Bowe, Riddicks
|
| Rappers with pro fitteds, we had no critics
|
| I fuckin' flow with it, my soul is so acidic
|
| A style that you won’t mimic cause this is no gimmick
|
| I’m fuckin' Madchild, bastard, I’m my own man
|
| Now I’m a grown man followin' a program
|
| I’m tryin' to get myself security like Homeland
|
| Health, wealth, family, and definitely romance
|
| Colder than a snowman
|
| We are 'bout to blow, man
|
| Steady like a slow jam
|
| Heavy like a cro-mag
|
| Verifying that I’m terrifying with every entry
|
| Rapper of the month? |
| We are rappers of the century
|
| Your shit is elementary
|
| Time we hit the gates we’ll be rappers of the century
|
| Petty loads of chemicals brother
|
| I’m a black shark in dark water
|
| Crashin' through your boat and your rudder
|
| They won’t discover you motherfucker, you’re lost as sea
|
| Twenty tentacles wrap around you like the roots of a tree
|
| From the incubator straight to incinerator
|
| Open up the steel gates, a modern day liberator
|
| Grey matter data ate a rapper for lunchtime
|
| I want my revenge like I came from a mummy’s mind
|
| I ain’t scare of no ambulance, magic spells and sunshine
|
| Energy points, portals, ports, and landlines
|
| Great minds alike think, strike down the weaklings
|
| Light tower, watchtower, watch how the beacon blink
|
| Deeper drink down potion, poison earth, ocean water
|
| Barbara is so filled with 'plistic, mask of Phantom of the Opera
|
| Watch out for chandeliers crashin' through the floor, Joyce
|
| Poor choice of words, never hear my voice say those
|
| Yeah, you underneath the heavy waves, color of colbalt
|
| Salt stick float box, tempature so cold
|
| Big drops of freezin' rain, born to reign upon this plane
|
| You call it reality, I call it a pawn in game
|
| Kill the king, capture flag, drag the bag to vulture valley
|
| If that’s just to far to drive, leave it in the back of alleys
|
| Steal the ring, capture flag, drag the bones to harbor’s bend
|
| If that shit to far to swim then leave em in the garbage bin |